


Barrel Rider

by tirsynni



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 13:02:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2069238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tirsynni/pseuds/tirsynni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo hated Wizards and he hated Dwarves and he hated Elves and more than anything else Bilbo hated water.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barrel Rider

**Author's Note:**

> This was written because I wanted to have a break from my other mostly angsty fics and also because I'm annoyed there was no sick!Bilbo in the movie when that part entertained me so much in the book.

Bilbo hated Wizards and he hated Dwarves and he hated Elves and more than anything else _Bilbo hated water_.

He clung to the barrel by his fingertips as Orcs howled and arrows flew and white waves crashed around and against him. After all this – Orcs and Wargs and giant spiders and giants – he was going to drown, an activity he could have done _quite_ easily back at the Shire, thank you kindly. He was going to drown in this blasted river and he was going to haunt Thorin and Gandalf both.

Water crashed into him and something hard jarred his side. His bleeding fingers clutched at the splintering barrel.

Not even the heroic death of an arrow or a sword and when did he start giving a damned about a heroic death, anyway? Oh no, he was going to be dislodged from this blasted barrel and he was going to sink under the waves because _Hobbits couldn’t swim_ and he was going to _drown_ of all things!

Go on an adventure, Gandalf said. It would be fun, Gandalf said.

For the first time in his life, Bilbo hoped all those ghost stories of his youth was true so he could _haunt_ —

Another wave crashed into him, flooding his eyes and mouth. Bilbo coughed and clung to the barrel. He felt like he couldn’t catch his breath, and he didn’t know if it was due to fear or the water.

Dratted Wizards and Dwarves and Elves all!

The river seemed to go on and on. Bilbo’s fingers bled and the river washed the blood away. He didn’t know when the arrows stopped flying due to the damned water in his eyes. He didn’t even know that they had hit the shore until his barrel physically hit the beach.

Bloodied and freezing and half-drowned, Bilbo _still_ managed to make his way to dry land without assistance. He crawled but the Dwarves were too busy crawling themselves to notice. If anything, Bilbo found himself staggering back to the shoreline to help some of the more waterlogged Dwarves out. He noticed Kili required more assistance than expected from Fili, but since Fili seemed to have the situation under control, Bilbo allowed himself to collapse on the rocks.

Everything ached like a stone giant had thrown him. Blasted adventures. His throat stung from swallowing so much water and his tea was long gone. He suddenly ached for his old lemon drops.

Then an archer almost shot Ori, and Men joined the ranks within Bilbo’s cursing.

xoxoxox

At Bard’s home – and really, Bard _wasn’t_ that difficult to remember, and the Dwarves could swallow their pride and remember their manners at _any_ time – Bilbo clutched his cup of tea and huddled beneath a pile of blankets. The air was so damp that it was like he was still in the river. His fingers were red and raw around the mug. The heat soothed as much as it stung.

He was so lost in misery that it took him a moment to realize that Thorin had draped another blanket around him. “You’re shivering,” Thorin noted. He settled gracefully beside him, somehow still kingly despite his bedraggled appearance. Bilbo wanted to resent him, but the warmth in Thorin’s eyes stalled the emotion. Damned Dwarf, stealing even Bilbo’s righteous indignation from him.

“I’m all right,” Bilbo said with a resigned sigh. It was almost as frustrating as trying to be mad at Kili and Fili. “Just… _wet_.”

Thorin’s laughter caught the attention of every soul within the modest home, even earning a raised eyebrow from Bard. “When Erebor is reclaimed, I will sit you before a blazing fire four times your height and width and ensure you are warm and dry. Will that please you, Bilbo?”

It was on the edge of Bilbo’s tongue to point out that dragonfire would probably win the honor. Instead, he quietly leaned against Thorin and soaked in his steady strength. Thorin wrapped his arm around him and pulled him closer. “I suppose that would suffice.”

Truly, Thorin alone would suffice, but Bilbo could not find a proper way to phrase that.

Thorin looked down at him with a smile, only for that smile to be wiped away like Bilbo had struck him. Before Bilbo could protest, Thorin stole Bilbo’s mug away and gripped Bilbo’s hands within his own. “What happened here?” Thorin demanded.

“You stole my tea!” Bilbo retorted before looking at his hands. He grimaced. No level of gardening had ever damaged his hands quite like this. “Oh yes, the barrels.”

Bilbo wished he was surprised when Thorin immediately called to Oin. Dwarves returned to their proper place on the top of his list. They could be attacked by spiders, Wargs, and Orcs, but the _second_ he had a scratch (well, maybe generally more than a scratch, but that wasn’t the point) Thorin called for medical aid like a Hobbit wasn’t –

Before Oin reached them, Thorin brushed his lips over Bilbo’s battered fingers. Bilbo’s thoughts stuttered to a halt.

…that was cheating and that was rude.

Then Oin was there and Thorin raised Bilbo’s poor hands so Oin could see what the fuss was about. When Bilbo coughed – which, really, he had almost drowned; he had the right to cough as much as he pleased – Oin called Ori over to help listen to Bilbo’s breathing.

As they fussed over him a truly unnecessary amount, Bilbo caught sight of Fili and Kili in the corner. The younger prince was pale and drawn, Fili’s arm protectively over him. Bilbo frowned but Kili caught his eye and frantically shook his head. What was wrong with Kili?

Thorin noticed Bilbo staring at something and started to turn to look. Blasted Dwarves and Kili’s damned pleading face. Resigning himself to the apparently contagious foolishness, Bilbo gave into the tickle in his throat and coughed again. Immediately, Thorin’s attention returned to him.

Kili’s narrow escape did nothing to ease the prince’s expression. Bilbo resolved to seek him out as soon as he had a spare moment.

At last, Oin bandaged his fingers and told him to relax with blankets and tea – “I _was_ doing that!” – and then rejoined Gloin, Dwalin, and Balin on the other side of the room.

Bilbo expected Thorin to join them as there were plans to be made, but instead Thorin remained beside him, arm tight around his shoulders.

“…and you shall have a fine cloak,” Thorin said quietly, far too quietly for the others to hear, “and whatever else your heart desires to keep you warm and at home.”

Bilbo’s throat hurt now for an entirely different reason. As he sat silently, Thorin nudged Bilbo’s head with his own and then left to join the other Dwarves.

Bilbo swallowed and stared after Thorin. He had the feeling that he would curse Dwarves many more times before this quest was done but perhaps…perhaps…

Perhaps the worst was truly behind them.


End file.
